A Hanadan Carol
by Jennifer Wand
Summary: Tsukasa refuses to remember Tsukushi's existence. But will a series of familiar apparitions visiting him on Christmas Eve convince him that she's worth remembering? PG for language only.
1.

"For the five HUNDREDTH time, I do not know that crazy girl!" Tsukasa roared, knocking a vase of carefully arranged flowers from their perch beside his bed. The vase shattered with a loud crash, and Soujirou jumped away in alarm. He shook his head sadly.  
  
"At this rate Tsukasa will be doing more than just forgetting Makino," Soujirou whispered to Akira, who was leaning against the wall beside him. "He's going to develop a complex against her."  
  
"But what can we do?" Akira responded, his eyes dark with disappointment. "Tsukasa's so pigheaded, if we don't push her on him he'll be perfectly happy to just go on living his life without her."  
  
"He has to want to remember," Soujirou conceded. "And I don't think we can convince him to do that."  
  
"And with Christmas coming and everything. Makino's got to be miserable."  
  
"Rui's got the patience of a saint to stick by her."  
  
"Would you two stop standing there and whispering right in front of me!?" Tsukasa bellowed, interrupting the pair's consultation. "I'm not a THING, you know!"  
  
Soujirou sighed. "Look, Tsukasa," he said, raising both hands palms-forward in a display of acquiescence. "We just want you to try and remember Makino. She was very important to you."  
  
"IS very important," Akira chimed in.  
  
"Like hell!" Tsukasa spat. The two boys shivered in unison.  
  
"Can't you at least try!?" Soujirou said, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Akira glanced uneasily at his friend, fearing another explosion of temper.  
  
Tsukasa seemed to calm for a moment, and Soujirou and Akira leaned forward hopefully. "Even if she was," Tsukasa said, the beginnings of a grin twitching at his lips as he looked down at the bedsheets, "even if she was my girlfriend or whatever..."   
  
"She was!" burst out Soujirou, before Akira nudged him into quiet.  
  
Then Tsukasa's gaze flew upwards, and the two gasped. The grin they'd staked their hopes on was one of maniacal rage, and blood vessels stood ready to pop on Tsukasa's forehead as he scowled. "...Even if she was, the wench HIT me!!" His voice rose to fever pitch. "I don't want anything to do with that goddamned violent girl!! Don't mention her name to me again!!"  
  
"But... Tsukasa!!" Soujirou was cringing as though fearing an onslaught of pillows, but still he tried.  
  
"No 'But Tsukasa's!" raged his livid friend. "Get out!"  
  
"Y.. yeah! You got it!" Akira pulled Soujirou out of the range of fire and pushed him out the door. "Sorry to bother you, Tsukasa!" he grinned shakily as he withdrew. "Merry Christmas!"  
  
"BAH!" came the enraged snarl as Akira and Soujirou ran for their lives.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A Hanadan Carol  
  
the closest thing Jennifer A. Wand has ever written to a Christmas fic, being the nice Jewish girl that she is  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
There was some sort of Christmas Eve celebration in the hospital wing that night. That blonde twit Umi, or whoever, was singing carols at the top of her lungs. Tsukasa covered his head with a pillow and tried as hard as he could to get some sleep.  
  
Outside his window, snow fell silently. It was gorgeous, and perfectly timed at that - snowfalls were rare in Japan, but this year it seemed like a "White Christmas" was in the cards for all the children and happy couples out there....  
  
Happy couples.  
  
"Bah," repeated Tsukasa, wondering why his chest hurt anew. Somewhere, a church tolled midnight, and with each ringing tone, he felt as though the weight of the air around him grew heavier. Grayer. Stranger...  
  
A clinking sound seemed to be approaching him, and he assumed it was a nurse decked out in high heels for the celebration. Burying his head in the gulf of pillows, he waited for the jarring noise to fade. But it didn't, and when Tsukasa became so aware of the jangling that he couldn't take it any more, he spun over and sat up, pillow in hand. "Shut the hell..."  
  
"Come on now," said Shigeru, laughing gently. "That's no way to treat a girl when she's come all this way to visit you!"  
  
"Shigeru!?" Tsukasa said incredulously. "Why the hell are you here?"  
  
"That's the question I want to ask YOU, Tsukasa," she grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Why AM I here? I shouldn't have met you until we both graduated from college. But somehow we know each other. Do you remember how we met? Better yet, WHY we met?"  
  
"Of course I do!" Tsukasa started, raising a fist. Why was everyone playing with him? "The bitch dragged me to a hotel and made me put on that idiotic getup, and then..."  
  
His voice faded. As though surprised at it himself, he clutched briefly at his throat. "And then..." he repeated in a weaker voice. He had hit a patch of white haze in his memory, something terribly significant but unreachable. The snow fell outside just as silently, and Tsukasa felt as though it were mocking at him. Laughing at his mind for suddenly being filled with the same white oblivion. Shigeru gazed at him silently, the smile still placid on her face.  
  
Eventually, Tsukasa lost patience. "Never mind that!" he shouted, making a sweeping motion with his hand as though to brush away the unnecessary confusion. "What the hell's with those chains?" For Shigeru was, indeed, wearing what looked like tons of heavy metallic chains - draped around her neck, attached with handcuffs to her wrists, wrapped around her whole body and dragging heavily on the floor. The same clinking noise that had first roused Tsukasa accompanied her every movement, and the dull gleam of the metal lit her face eerily and made her look not quite human. Like... an apparition.  
  
"These?" Shigeru lifted a hand with a chorus of clinks and gazed at the bonds. "These are the chains of your own memory, Tsukasa. They're so tangled up now, they're keeping everyone around you prisoner. You're hurting people who love you, and every time you try and deny Tsukushi's existence, they weigh us all down more."  
  
"Oh, God..." Tsukasa buried his face in his hands. "Not more about that annoying crazy woman..."  
  
Shigeru gave a sharp cry, and Tsukasa's eyes flew up just in time to see another chain rise from the coils at her feet and snap a ferret onto her upper arm. She winced for a moment, then relaxed. "See?" she said, her eyes hollow and sad. "You're shutting her out. But I'll give you a chance, Tsukasa."  
  
"A chance?" he echoed stupidly.  
  
"Tonight you'll have three more visitors, and each one of them will show you how Tsukushi has changed your life... all our lives. So watch and listen well, Tsukasa." Her figure began to take on a transparent hue. "You have to make the choice to break out of these chains and catch your future."  
  
"Shigeru, what the hell!?" Tsukasa burst forward from the bed where he sat, trying to grab onto her. But his hand couldn't seem to reach her - even as she grew paler and clearer, like a mere reflection in a window, while the chains remained solid all around her.  
  
"Remember Tsukushi," Shigeru whispered before she faded away altogether. The chains holding her fell limp onto the floor, then dissolved themselves into a shimmering golden mass. The apparition was gone.  
  
~ to be continued ~ 


	2. 

A Hanadan Carol  
Part II  
  
I don't have my manga volume 11 or 12 with me, so I apologize if some of the details of this are wrong.  
~~  
  
"Tsukushi?" Tsukasa repeated the name. It sounded unfamiliar rolling off his tongue, the name that everyone wanted him to remember. The name that was the last word off that ghostly Shigeru's lips before she faded into a patch of golden haze. Tsukasa was sure he was dreaming. But the cold draft coming in through his window, the muted clatter below him on the fourth floor... these were too real. He shook his head violently, as though trying to throw off the clinging memories of the last few moments. It failed. He repeated again. "Tsu.. kushi..."  
  
"Yeah, that's right," said a tenor male voice from behind him. "Tsukushi-chan. Of course, you called her Makino."  
  
Tsukasa wheeled. Sitting on the shelf where that unlucky vase had been, also looking slightly ephemeral, was a young man wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and a baseball cap turned backwards. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his upturned palm, and smiled gently at Tsukasa with a face a little long, a little harried, but optimistic all the same. "Hi," he said, waving his free hand and grinning for a moment.  
  
"You..." Tsukasa stared a moment, then groaned. "Not again."  
  
"'Fraid so, Doumyouji-kun," the man said. "Do you know who I am?"  
  
After a moment's pause, Tsukasa answered slowly, "You look... familiar."  
  
"Amakusa Seinosuke." The ghostly figure jumped off the ledge and began to circle Tsukasa's bed, finally sitting down on the foot of it. "And Tsukushi-chan called ME 'Kin-san'. Why, I'm not quite sure. But it was cute."  
  
"Of course," Tsukasa growled. "You're the false-faced bastard who tried to..." And again, his voice just stopped. "To..." There was an ending to that sentence, he was sure of it! There had to be a reason anger was welling up inside him, and not just because of the strangeness of this whole infuriating situation. This guy had done something, had pulled something - but what!? Tsukasa gave a little incoherent growl and clenched his fists.  
  
"Don't worry," Kin-san said lightly after a moment. "It's been a whole year... exactly a year, in fact... since we last saw each other. At the Teen of Japan competition, last Christmas Eve." He stood and walked to the door of the room, opening it. "After you."  
  
Tsukasa stared. Through the door, instead of the hallway he anticipated, a strange white haze seemed to stretch out before his eyes. Instinctively, he leapt up and charged through, as though once he left the room he might be out of this crazy dream. But as soon as the doorframe pased behind him and faded into his peripheral vision, Tsukasa was surrounded, drowning in snowy nothingness. He heard a bell toll.  
  
When the whiteness faded, he was in a crowded auditorium milling with people. "Where the hell--"  
  
"The Teen of Japan competition." Kin-san lagged a little behind him. "Don't you remember going to see it?"  
  
Something rang true about the statement, and Tsukasa thought he remembered being in this place before. But... "Why the hell would I go to a Teen of Japan competition?" he mused out loud. "It's not like Nee-chan was in it again this year. Oh, I know!" He slammed his fist into his other palm for emphasis. "Soujirou and Akira must have dragged us to make us look at the women. Goddamnit! SOUJIROU!" For indeed Soujirou was approaching the pair, laughing loudly with Akira and followed by an impeccably dressed but slightly nervous-looking Tsubaki. "You..."  
  
Tsukasa didn't get to finish his sentence. Soujirou was walking right towards him, but didn't seem to acknowledge his existence. Tsukasa faced him head-on as though to impede his progress, but when Soujirou reached the angry face of his friend, he kept on walking - and passed right through him! Tsukasa clutched at the air in disbelief. Akira passed through his right shoulder, and then Tsubaki walked right through him, at which point Tsukasa could see Rui following behind... and then himself! "What the..."  
  
"We're not really here, Doumyouji-kun," Kin-san explained in his breezy Tokyo dialect, passing his hand through a few people's heads for comedic effect. "We're just looking at a memory. Christmas Past, so to speak."  
  
"We're what?" The idea had a tough time worming its way into Tsukasa's mind, and he stood in shock until he noticed some activity off to one side.  
  
It was him - and much to the chagrin of the F3, he was trying to get past the row of security guards that blocked off access to the stage. He had a huge piece of white cloth, ripped rather crudely from the decorations that lined the place, and pieces of thick black letters bled through as Tsukasa-of-the-past held it up for all to see. The Tsukasa watching muttered a "What am I doing!?" and took off running toward the source of the confusion. Kin-san adjusted his baseball cap, shrugged, and followed.  
  
  
  
1 MILLION YEN  
  
That was the figure written on the cloth, in huge sloppy handwriting that had to be Tsukasa's own. He repeated the words in a confused voice before his counterpart from the past started shouting at the top of his lungs. "MAKINO!" And as the dreaming Tsukasa turned, he saw a girl stopped in the wings just offstage, staring with hollow eyes.  
  
"Makino!!" Past-Tsukasa yelled so loud the whole audience was watching. "Your objective is the one million yen! Don't forget it!!"  
  
"One milion yen?" his observer whispered one more time, and turned to his guide. "Oi! What's this about?!"  
  
"That's the prize money for the competition," Kin-san said as he strolled up beside Tsukasa. "She has to earn it so she can pay you back."  
  
"I lent that woman a million yen!?" Tsukasa stammered. "What the hell for!?"  
  
"She needed it. Her father was in trouble, from what I recall. It still drives me crazy that she would go to you and not to me, though. But you told her that you'd lend it to her if she entered this competition to try and pay you back. So here she is, and here you are."  
  
Tsukasa stared at the wordless exchange between his past self and the girl backstage. Heaving breaths escaped his mouth, making his curls shake slightly with every exhalation. The purposeful scowl that darkened his face was pierced by dark, hopeful eyes. And the girl... Makino Tsukushi... had stopped just staring and was beginning to smile, just barely, some color coming into her cheeks. She was wearing the same short dress and heels that all the contestants did. And she looked... fairly cute.  
  
Tsukasa was surprised at his own reaction. Putting a hand on his chest as though to control the compulsive pounding before anyone else could hear it, he frowned. He'd been surrounded with beautiful women all his life without being stirred. This girl wasn't even all that stunning... long, limp dark hair, a face a little rounder than ideal. But somehow his body, or his heart, was responding to her as though she were something special. For the first time, he considered the possibility that she had really meant something to him.  
  
As he turned inward for that moment, the scene around him seemed to shift. He was still in that auditorium, but now he was facing the audience, watching himself watch the stage. The face he saw was flushed, slack-jawed... an idiotic expression. Tsukasa wanted to punch himself.   
  
He turned to see the stage. The lights were down in the house now and the pageant was in full swing. That girl Makino was doing her best to parade across the runway, wearing an outfit that looked more torn than anything else. She swallowed hard and bit her lip nervously, aware of the strangeness of her costume and the eyes of hundreds. Tsukasa felt himself turn red, mirroring his past self's reaction. Something in that pride, something in the knowledge that this girl was doing all this to pay him back a measly million-yen debt... no girl had ever bothered to pay him back for anything before. Why should they, when what they wanted was his money in the first place? Yet he had the feeling that she was putting herself on the line for some sort of pride he couldn't understand. Something that had made him jump security lines just to remind her of. He felt himself hoping she won.  
  
Again, the scene shifted, and he was watching the contestants converse with an old British woman in more or less flawless English. Then out came Makino, and she trembled, fidgeted, and finally burst forward with a heavily accented "HA-RO!" that toppled the lady right over with its force. Tsukasa felt like either groaning or laughing, he didn't know which. The conversation went on, and Tsukasa noticed that the old woman was looking kind of pale. The lights were beating down on the pair, and sweat beaded on her brow. He looked up at Makino's face and saw that she was noticing it too. Without realizing what he was doing, he pleaded silently with her to reach out and help. And when the woman finally crumpled forward, help she did... calling out "Pale!" and catching the old women squarely by both shoulders before she could faint to the floor. Tsukasa took in a long breath of relief. He knew she would save her.  
  
Another shift, and Makino was onstage alongside a lovely young woman with elegantly cut blonde hair. A bunch of children in tiny suits and bowties were sitting around the blonde woman, singing happily along with them, while Makino was facing off with one of the more ill-mannered kids and not doing much to charm him. Tsukasa was watching from the wings, now, and behind him he heard the whispered chatter of the other contestants.   
  
"I can't believe she made the finals. What were those judges thinking!?"  
  
"I don't know how she managed to get the answer to that question out of that old bag. She must have done something dirty."  
  
"Just take a look. There's no comparison. She hasn't got a chance!"  
  
Tsukasa spun round and roared, "Shut up! She's doing the best she can!"  
  
But his only response was Kin-san's laughter. "That's exactly what you said to those guys in the audience that night," he said. "I was a few rows back and heard the whole thing. You were pretty adamantly defending her."  
  
"...Shut up," Tsukasa repeated in Kin-san's direction, looking bashful.  
  
And then the call echoed around the room. "I'm going to fix your attitudes!"  
  
Tsukasa's every hair stood on end.  
  
He whirled to face the stage. He had heard those words, in that voice, a long time ago...  
  
Makino was getting along better with the kids now. She was challenging them to duels of cup-and-ball, doing cartwheels that made the audience gasp in shock at such a tomboyish trick, grabbing a jump rope from a nearby toy chest and calling across the stage to her rival. "Ayano-san! Why don't you come play with us? It's more fun with two!" And then the whole stage was one giant playground, knee-high boys jumping rope and running around, laughing and pulling on the two finalists' arms and legs, as they stood like two pillars and swung the jump rope in loose, wide arcs between them. Tsukasa stood transfixed. The other contestants were talking trash about this woman? The girl who turned a competition into a team affair, who shook her rival's hand when it was all through?  
  
And then it echoed in his mind again. "I'm going to fix your attitudes!"  
  
A red tag slapped to his face. And a PUNCH...  
  
The hospital room returned in gloomy colors to the space around Tsukasa. He was standing near his bed, where Kin-san was still sitting, and somehow he was all upset again. "I'm not impressed," he snarled. "Low-class woman who borrowed a million yen off me and then has the gall to punch me!? Forget it!"  
  
"Well, it's true Tsukushi-chan is low-class, at least where economics are concerned," Kin-san sighed. "She's got it worse than most. And yet she still comes to see you every day, Doumyouji-kun... every day despite you throwing her out almost immediately..."  
  
"Who asked you!?"  
  
Kin-san looked morose. "I get it. Maybe you still don't have a conception of what that girl goes through, and how hard she's trying right now. Maybe what you need to see is what she's doing right at this moment. But that's not my department." And just as Shigeru had, Kin-san began to fade, shimmering into crystal fragments like hovering ice. "Maybe your next visitor can help you with that. Good luck, Doumyouji-kun... and let me leave you with just one more memory."   
  
And as Kin-san faded entirely, Tsukasa saw in the open doorway a running Makino, cheeks flushed and breath puffing ahead of her in the cold air. She was in the street just outside the theatre where the competition had taken place. And as she came to a stop, Tsukasa could see Kin-san... one from the past... waiting for her.   
  
"I really like you, Kin-san," she was saying sadly. "But... I'm sorry."  
  
The boy smiled. "Hey, I'm not the kind of guy who gets all depressed over something silly like a girl rejecting him!" His smile faded. "This means... you love Doumyouji, though, right?"  
  
Makino had tears in her eyes. She leaned forward and put a hand to her head, as though trying to sort everything out. "I don't know," she admitted. "But... during all this, the one who was there for me when things were hardest... was him."  
  
Kin-san patted her head as her tears flowed freely.  
  
Then the vision was gone.  
  
"I was?" said Tsukasa aloud to the empty room.  
  
~to be continued~ 


	3. 

A Hanadan Carol  
  
Part III  
  
dedicated to the lovely reviewer on ff.net who reminded me of the next guest character's existence :D  
  
~~  
  
Things were getting far too creepy for Tsukasa. Determined more than ever to block out all thoughts of mysterious girls and disappearing ghosts, he flopped on the bed and shut his eyes purposefully. He would sleep, and this time he wouldn't have any more strange dreams. He scowled.  
  
He WOULD ignore that shadow that was looming over his bed now.  
  
He would NOT open his eyes and be subjected to another weird nighttime visitor.  
  
"Bah," he muttered, as though trying to shoo away the spook.  
  
"BAH!" echoed the owner of the shadow. "That's my line!" A burst of boyish laughter ensued. Tsukasa lost patience. His eyes flew open.  
  
He was staring at the brightest orange pants he'd ever seen.  
  
Cursing as though they'd leapt out and attacked him, he averted his eyes and sat up slowly. The orange jeans were part of a whole ensemble of painfully gaudy colors - yellow sneakers below and a loose-fitting blouse of a pale periwinkle color above. The boy standing before him wore horn-rimmed glasses and had flyaway straw-colored hair. He looked like a strange ragged scarecrow too late for Halloween.  
  
"Long time no see, Doumyouji-san," the boy grinned, his smile wide and innocent enough to melt a stone. "Remember me?"  
  
Tsukasa stiffened. "You... weren't you satisfied the last time you came to my hospital room to harass me?!"  
  
Oribe Junpei threw back his head and laughed again. "You're a card, Doumyouji-san. You remember that, but you don't remember why you were in the hospital in the first place?"  
  
"I remember that!" Tsukasa snarled. "You and your weakling goons ganged up on me. Cracked my goddamn ribs."  
  
"Eh?" Junpei cupped a hand to his ear. "Say that one more time? Weakling goons? Why, Doumyouji-san... I do believe you're implying you could have taken us all at once if you'd wanted to."  
  
"Damn straight," Tsukasa puffed up, full of self-important pride. "And I would have, too, if..."  
  
And it happened again.  
  
White fuzziness where there ought to be memory. A sense of purpose lost. And Tsukasa's voice scraping empty, gutteral syllables instead of forming words, making sense. He sat up seriously and looked Junpei in the face. "All right. Just do your ghost thing and get it over with. I want to get some sleep."  
  
"If you say so," Junpei said as he shrugged. "My job is to show you what Makino-san's doing tonight... how she's spending Christmas Present. Shall we take a stroll?" Tsukasa got up and followed him obediently through the door into that weird white haze, muttering under his breath all the while.  
  
~  
  
"Nee-chan! You are going to make a Christmas cake this year, aren't you?"  
  
A puffy-faced boy of about eleven called in a squeaky voice from among a pile of manga, his foot absently banging rhythmically on the hardwood floor. The room was tiny, almost cramped, and Tsukasa had to bend his knees to keep the top of his head from scraping through the ceiling. Two futons lay rolled awkwardly on one side of the room, and from the small alcove to the side, Tsukasa could hear the banging of pots. "Maison Makino," Junpei announced with a deep bow.  
  
"Be quiet, Susumu!" exploded a voice from the alcove, and the same girl from the pageant stuck her head into the room, frowning sternly. Only now she didn't look very glamorous. With a rumpled blouse, her hair tied back with a scarf, and a rolling pin in one hand, she looked more like a harried housewife. "And stop banging your foot like that, the people downstairs will complain. Unroll the futons, would you? It's past midnight and we should both be in bed."  
  
"The cake, Nee-chan," repeated Susumu somewhat incoherently, his cheeks stuffed full with chips he was popping in his mouth one by one.  
  
"I'll see what I can do! And the way you're eating those, I don't want to hear you complaining on New Year's Eve when I make you clean that crumb-covered floor, you got that?"  
  
"Whatever." Susumu rolled over onto his back and held a manga above his head, still munching messily on the chips. "There's only one room to clean, so it'll take no time anyway."  
  
"One room?" For the first time since he'd arrived in this place, Tsukasa spoke. "This is the place they live? Just in this one room?"  
  
"Bingo." Junpei was examining some of the open manga on the floor near Susumu.  
  
"Where are their parents?" Tsukasa was almost certain that most people lived with their parents, despite his unhappy situation.  
  
"Couldn't find work in the city anymore and took off to a fishing village on the coast," Junpei explained. "In a word, Doumyouji-san... she's fending for herself here."  
  
"That's..." The rest of the words, whatever they were, couldn't make it past his throat.   
  
Susumu laid out the futons with a series of grumbling complaints and tucked himself in, falling quickly asleep and starting to snore tiny, wheezy snores. Tsukushi peeked in again, and at the sight of him sleeping, switched off the light in the tiny room. The glow of the kitchen alcove remained, though, and Tsukasa stepped through the room to peek at what she was doing.  
  
A baking sheet lay on the stove burners, silver foil catching the dim light where it wrinkled and creased. The girl was slowly, quietly, lifting off with a spatula and placing into a little basket each of a series of tiny cookies, golden brown on top and slightly burned on the bottom. They had a funny shape to them, and Tsukasa knelt to see what they were. What he saw nearly made him laugh out loud.  
  
Each of the little sweets was molded into a caricature of his face, curly hair and any of a number of perfectly ridiculous expressions. He knew them all. Cocky grin, angry scowl, shocked blush... He couldn't decide whether to be enraged with her for daring to mock him, or utterly charmed with her effort. As it was, he found himself just staring blankly into the basket.  
  
"I think these came out better than last time," Tsukushi said softly, startling him. He fell backwards into a sitting position on the floor. Was she talking to him? No, just herself, and as she peeled the last few cookies off the baking sheet, she went on. "They won't smell like fish, at least."  
  
She made a fist with her free hand and looked purposefully forward - Tsukasa felt, not for the first time, that she was looking right at him. "I'm just going to muster up my courage and give them to him," she said in hushed, but firm, tones. "Even if they don't help him remember. I just want to give him something on Christmas."  
  
Her voice slowed, and her eyes looked down at the basket as she carefully placed the final pair of cookies, shaped differently than the others, on the pile. "Because if he did remember... we'd be on a Christmas date tomorrow."  
  
One of the two cookies was shaped like the planet Saturn. The other was perfectly round, but had impressions of stitches placed into it, like a baseball. Tsukasa gazed at them and felt a whir of emotion, but it was a scary one, and he shook it away.  
  
She drew a cloth from the cupboard and began to wrap the basket in it. "Let's see. Tomorrow I've got that one job in the morning, and then I'll come back and see if I can't make Susumu that Christmas cake. Then there's that other job, which I have to go to because they're offering extra pay for Christmas workers. And by the end of the day, I should have enough to afford skipping out for a half hour to go see Doumy..." Her hands, dextrously tying the corners of the fabric into a knot, suddenly faltered, and her face dropped.  
  
"Oi!" Tsukasa called in a stage whisper to Junpei, who was folding paper airplanes out of discarded manga pages he'd found ripped out of the magazines. "How many jobs does this woman have?"  
  
"As many as she needs to," Junpei said, paying a ridiculous amount of attention to every crease in the paper. "She has a brother to support, too."  
  
Tsukasa turned his attention, wordlessly, back to the girl before him. Her eyes were still downturned. She'd taken out one of the cookies - a caricature of him with a boyish grin - and was staring at it. Her lips trembled. "...ji..."  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
She took the little cookie and held it to her cheek briefly. "Doumyouji..." A shining tear came down to meet it and pooled on her cheek where the cookie blocked its path.   
  
Tsukasa's whole body began to ache. He wrapped his arms around himself as if to contain it, but the shivering, the pain was all over him and around him now. He'd hurt this girl... hurt her badly. He was sure of that now. In ways he couldn't undo. Now the very thought of him caused her pain. God, what had he done? He was afraid to remember. He wanted desperately to wipe those tears away, but he couldn't. He couldn't do a thing to soothe her. "Damn it," he said in a soft voice.  
  
A paper airplane flew past his nose, nearly giving him a paper cut, and Tsukasa started. Junpei waved at him from across the room, grinning a grin that was half innocent, half insidious.  
  
"It's no good," Tsukasa blurted out. "Look at this. I'm already hurting her and I don't even know her."  
  
"You hurt her from the beginning," Junpei shrugged, his pose casual but his eyes on fire. Tsukasa thought he looked more than a little scary. "She even tried to tell you so, but you started shouting that you'd chase her into hell. Stubborn S.O.B."  
  
"Then I shouldn't remember her." Tsukasa's voice rose almost to a shout. "She should just forget about me and move on. That'd..." He faltered. "That'd be better for both of us."  
  
Junpei laughed, and this time the malice in his voice was undisguised. "That's what you think, huh?" He raised a paper airplane above his head and threw it. "Think you should just fly away...?" The little craft sailed through the air and Tsukasa watched it, transfixed, until it began to eclipse his vision...  
  
~  
  
First came the snow falling, then the window that shut it all out. Then the rest of the hospital room came into focus, and once more, Tsukasa was on his bed, arms still clutching his body as though he were desperately cold. His nerves were on fire. He shook.  
  
"You look pretty tense there, Doumyouji-san," said Junpei, once more the innocent boy without a care in the world. "Why don't you just give in and remember her? It'll save you a visit."  
  
"No way in hell," Tsukasa insisted, too upset to hide the desperate edge to his voice. "She should give up on me. She ought to go on with her life, and leave me to mine."  
  
"And then everything will be fine?" Junpei cocked his head to the side and looked quizzically at Tsukasa. "I guess you are going to need some more convincing. Fine, fine. Someone else will be by to say hello, Doumyouji-san. Don't go anywhere!" He snapped his fingers and was gone.  
  
Tsukasa put his head in his hands. He was sure now that this Makino had been important to him, that she was in every memory that the white fog obscured. But he was even surer that he was no good for her. "Once this dream is over," he told himself, "I'll forget it ever happened. And we'll both be able to get on with our lives.  
  
"That's the way it has to be."  
  
~to be continued~ 


	4. 

A Hanadan Carol  
  
Part Four  
  
again I apologize for any inaccuracies (particularly regarding this guest's salary) as I don't have my manga with me.  
~~~  
  
He was ready this time. Tsukasa knew the pattern now - the ghost would make some sort of foolish comment and appear, looking sunny as can be, somewhere in his room. So Tsukasa just waited. He sat stock still on his bed, thoughts running madly through his head, but body unmoving. Waiting. And feeling.  
  
Regret and guilt. And anger that he had to feel guilt for things he couldn't remember doing. Desperate confusion at why it had to be this way. And through it all, a pang of sadness with the image of the silvery tear of a girl he couldn't or wouldn't remember loving. He'd always considered himself above such things. How could he accept having spent over a year of his life devoted to her? It went against everything he took pride in being, believing. Why would he willingly turn his life upside down?  
  
And then there was her to consider. If he had cared for her -- and he knew he had, if only in that dim sort of way one knows things in a dream -- how could he put her through all that? He was sure he could do nothing but hurt her anyway. What did he know about love?  
  
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he barely heard the knock on the door.  
  
The sound came again, hollow and piercing, and Tsukasa roused himself and looked around. No ghost? Perhaps this insane dream was over sooner than anticipated, and a nurse was at his door with this morning's breakfast. Excited at the prospect, Tsukasa leapt to his feet and went rushing for the door so fast that he never thought to look out the window and see that it was, in fact, still night.  
  
So he was utterly shocked when the door flew open and he was standing face-to-face with a hooded black cloak.  
  
"What the--" Tsukasa tumbled back a few feet, then regained his senses. "What the hell are you!?" The figure made no reply. "Come on," Tsukasa raged, all his nerves on edge. "Let me see your--" and he ran toward the new arrival, grabbing the hood with both hands and forcing it backwards-- "FACE!"  
  
Now he could. And it was Tsukasa's own face.  
  
"Yo," Amon saluted him, the sarcastic clip to his voice and his movements the same as Tsukasa remembered. He didn't even bother trying to figure out how he knew this lookalike... the answer was sure to have to do with patches of white fog in his memory. He just answered Amon's scowl. Two bad attitudes faced off in the room for a silent moment.  
  
Then Amon went on. "I'll get to the point. I sacrificed 25 million yen and my pride to let you and Tsukushi-chan get together, and there is no way I'm going to let you forget about her now. Come on, out the door, 'cousin.' Time for you to see Christmas Future." He laid a hand on Tsukasa's shoulder.  
  
Tsukasa shook it off, but more sadly than violently. "I get what you all are trying to do here," he said in a tone so pensive and regretful it hardly seemed like his. "But I don't think my remembering her is going to do her any good. It'd be much better for her if I just forgot about her entirely."  
  
"Where the hell do you get off figuring that out NOW!?" Amon shouted, knocking Tsukasa off balance. "I was the one who told you that, you bastard! You should have agreed to it back when she was really willing to go off with me and forget about you! Not now, when she's made the decision to stay with you no matter what! You selfish, no-good BASTARD!" The curse echoed in the small room. Amon lost his wind and panted for a few moments. Tsukasa could not say a word-- even if he could have found the words to say.  
  
"Never mind," Amon finally said when he got his breath back. "Never mind. Let's just go."  
  
Thrown by the force of his words, Tsukasa had temporarily forgotten the situation. "Go?"  
  
"You think leaving Tsukushi-chan alone will make everything okay? Let's go see what a difference a year makes." With that, Amon grabbed Tsukasa's wrist firmly and hauled him through the door into the haze.  
  
~  
  
Candles lent a gentle glow to the frosty corners of the windows, and the dark green upholstery flickered with dots of reflected gold. It was a comfortable, spacious sitting room, and on one end a fire crackled, spreading warmth throughout.  
  
Which Tsukasa felt none of. "Why are we watching this from the outside?" he demanded. "It's freezing!"  
  
"Because you're not welcome in this home anymore," Amon said soberly, his eyes fixed on the sight in the windowpane.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Tsukasa demanded. "This is Rui's place!"  
  
"It's a year later," was Amon's only reply. His features fell into profound shadow.  
  
On the near side of the room sat four people on two couches, sipping champagne, nibbling on cookies, and talking. One one sofa sat Soujirou and Akira, looking far more somber than they had on previous Christmas Eves, and on the other sat Rui, his body angled in protectively toward the girl sitting beside him. "Makino," Tsukasa whispered.  
  
Their conversation drifted from the window, and Soujirou was telling a joke at which all three boys laughed. "Don't you think so, Makino?" he grinned, leaning toward her. She mustered up a small smile and nodded at him. "Of course, that's nothing compared to that time when we were in grade school, and Tsukasa tried to--" His words were cut off when Akira nudged his buddy meaningfully.  
  
"Sorry, Makino." Soujirou caressed his now-sore side, a rueful grin plastered on his face. "I really didn't mean to..."  
  
"It's okay, Nishikado-san." She did her best to smile. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Rui put a comforting arm around Tsukushi and squeezed her briefly. At this, her tears came, and she hid her face. "I'm... sorry," she said, her voice breaking.  
  
"It's okay. This is a tough day for you, Makino. But it'll get easier." Rui kissed the top of her head gently. "It'll get easier," he repeated.  
  
"Sure! We'll be asking ourselves 'Tsukasa who?' any day n..." Soujirou was, once more, cut off -- only this time it took a full head lock by Akira to do it.  
  
Outside, Tsukasa shivered and turned to Amon. "What the hell is going on here!?" he demanded. "I'm not welcome here, you said?"  
  
"You blew it," Amon said darkly. "You wouldn't remember, and you lost the closest friends you ever had." His scowl blackened further. "That's what you get."   
  
"You goddamned son of a bitch!" Tsukasa erupted, pushing his way through the snow to grab Amon by the front of his collar. "Where am I in all this, huh? What the hell am I doing while my friends are betraying me?"  
  
"You?" Amon smiled, despite Tsukasa holding him aloft by the front of his shirt. "You're right over there." He pointed. Tsukasa dropped him and whirled.  
  
Sure enough, standing in the drifts of snow that coated the sidewalks outside the Hanazawa gate, stood Tsukasa. His coat was loosely buttoned, his scarf flying free in the wind, leaving his ears and face free to be rubbed red and raw by the cold. He gazed dolefully up at the house, and looked for all the world like he would just stay there until the raging blizzard covered him from head to toe. Even with the thick coat, it was easy to see that he'd lost weight. He looked scrawny standing there, like a stick blown haphazardly by the storm.   
  
"Hey! You!" came an unfamiliar voice from the house, and the two observers looked up to see a maid busy sweeping snow from the porch. She had caught sight of Tsukasa in the snow, and was waving a broom at him angrily. "Don't you come near this house again! You thick-skulled rich boy. You don't deserve what you've got!" Sighing heavily at her words, the rich boy left his post and began to trudge along.  
  
"How does a stupid MAID talk to me like that!" Tsukasa roared at the scene. He began to work his way down from the gardens to the sidewalk and follow his alter ego. Amon followed, shouting words that Tsukasa either didn't hear or didn't acknowledge in the roaring wind.  
  
"Everyone talks to you like that, because everyone knows what you are now! Hanazawa-kun made no secret of his feelings toward Tsukushi-chan, or what you'd done to her! And when you gave her up, he took her in! Told her he'd make sure she never had reason to hear about you again, and promised to love her no matter what. No matter what, Tsukasa! Do those words have any meaning for you?"  
  
They had followed the future Tsukasa onto a main road, where cars were moving along with windshield wipers flapping despite the heavy snow. Tsukasa was walking aimlessly along the sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets, not even looking up. Then wheels screeched and headlights blared in his face, and he put a gloved hand to his eyes to filter out the light.  
  
A long, sleek, black car had pulled up alongside him, tires plowing through the fresh snow. He stood temporarily blinded by the painful yellow of the headlights, and when they went off he opened his eyes to the sight of a door opening and high heeled boots stepping out into the snow.  
  
The face of an Ice Queen in the middle of winter gazed at him. "Time's up, Tsukasa-san," Kaede said. "You're going back."  
  
"Back?" the Tsukasa watching blurted out. "The hell!?"  
  
"To New York, little rich boy," Amon said. "You had a year off to be with Tsukushi-chan, courtesy of Mommie Dearest, and you wasted the whole year."  
  
"Why the hell would I go off to New York with the bitch, girl or no girl?" Tsukasa retorted. "And what does that have to do with it?! She can't make me go anywhere!"  
  
"But you're going," was Amon's only reply. Tsukasa turned again.  
  
Mutely, submissively, Tsukasa was climbing into the car. Kaede stood by with a satisfied smirk on her face. Enraged, the observer Tsukasa ran with all his strength, right up to the two of them. "Stop it!" he shouted at himself. "Are you a moron!?"  
  
But as he tried and failed to grasp his future self's shoulders, he got a good long look at his own face. Pale, lean, devoid of all emotion. Without fire, without fun. It was the face of a corpse.  
  
Kaede got in after her son. The car sputtered to life and sped away.  
  
Tsukasa watched it go for a long while, the snow falling around him silently. He could feel his heart shattering into a thousand pieces, and he searched desperately for the reason why.  
  
"Are you telling me..." he said finally, more to himself than to Amon, who had come up just behind him. His voice was a ragged near-wail of sad realization. "...Are you telling me that without Makino, I'm not even me anymore? That if I let her go... I'll lose everything?"  
  
Amon's sudden hand on his shoulder was the only warmth he'd felt in this whole vision, and Tsukasa turned. Dark eyes blazed into his, and for the first time since he'd appeared, Amon spoke in a gentle tone. "You may lose everything even with her," he whispered. "But at least you'll be where you're supposed to be."  
  
Tsukasa looked at Amon for another moment. Then he closed his eyes.  
  
How long he stood there in the cold before he was somehow brought back to his room, he didn't know. How long Amon remained with him before he, too, faded away, he didn't know. Tsukasa was within himself, searching himself, for what seemed like an eternity, and he lost sight of all else. As before, he thought he heard a bell toll.  
  
He was a fool. A stubborn, cynical fool who didn't realize even his heart could be opened. But it could. It had. There was only one person on this earth who could have done it, and she had always held the key.   
  
And now he needed to recapture his life. Recapture the past, painful as it might be. Recapture the love that had changed his world.   
  
He'd been running from it long enough. Now he had to embrace it all, even the humiliation, even the sadness and the frustration, even the pain.  
  
And the joy so sweet it melted his soul...  
  
He clutched a hand to his heart and prayed fervently for his life back. For the return of the memories that overwhelmed him so much he'd even blocked them out in panicked desperation when he was fighting for his life. They'd been too much for him then, but he needed them now. He needed her now. And so he prayed.  
  
A solitary tear escaped his eye and his lips moved to form a single word.  
  
"Makino..."  
  
~ to be concluded ~ 


	5. 

A Hanadan Carol  
  
Part Five and final  
  
in other words, "the sap flows free..."  
  
The nurse is courtesy of Boys Be. The reggae man, HYD Vol. 9. And the taxi driver, oh, I don't know... maybe he's the taxi driver from FY. :grin:  
  
Oh, man, does this ending suck. Oh well. Happy Merries and Merry Happies to everyone.  
~~~  
  
Dimness. A dull gray dot of consciousness buried in waves of oblivion. An existence trapped in a shell, thrown far away, far back into a void. Forgotten.  
  
But with a gleam, a single tear, a drop of water with the scent of longing keen on its surface, filters in through the tiniest of cracks and glistens. Bringing the first daylight to this dark place it has seen in so long.  
  
Might there be hope of resurrection?  
  
And then the word is spoken. Not merely a word, but an incantation. A spell to bring forth light. A reverberating prayer. Come back to life, it pleads. Complete me.  
  
"MAKINO."  
  
And the Tsukasa within Tsukasa is released.  
  
He grasps the side of the bed with both hands as his head flies back and his eyes open wide, unblinking, unseeing. Pockets and pools of memory fill in. Wild rushing waves of words he's said, things he's done, places he's been crash over him in powerful blows that bring trembling and tears. He shudders with the force of it, crying in mourning for what he's lost, crying in relief for what he's regained, crying in joy for what he now knows. And after the agony comes a blessed calm, a gentle doze that brings him back to reality again. He awakens at the first light of dawn, thinking of her, and feeling whole once more.  
  
It is Christmas morning, and Tsukasa remembers.  
  
~  
  
Miyuki was hardly expecting her patient to be awake this early, let alone out of bed and fully dressed. But as she prepared breakfast trays in the little alcove just off the fifth floor hall, her head was turned by a rush of color and activity, complete with what she could have sworn was a distinctly curly head of hair on top. Shaking the cobwebs out, she rushed to the hall, barely daring to believe her own eyes.  
  
He had stopped halfway through the hall and was grinning back at her. "Good morning, Miyuki-san. Merry Christmas!"  
  
She rubbed her eyes. "D--Doumyouji-sama...?"  
  
"I have somewhere to go," he said with the air of an excited child. "I'll come back later today. See ya!"  
  
Was this the cranky, spoiled rich boy she'd been taking care of for the past several days? It hardly seemed possible. And at this hour...! "Doumyouji-sa..." she started again. But he was already long gone.  
  
~  
  
The reggae man had fallen asleep on a park bench just outside the hospital's main lobby last night. Folding all his blankets and plastic bags around him, he'd just barely kept the snow from covering him, but pieces of crystal hung in his stringy beard and he was shivering even in sleep. He was roused only by the ever-stronger tapping of running footsteps, energetic and swift, and coming right towards him.  
  
He thought he recognized the fellow with the curly hair, running like a huge, overexcited dog across the sidewalk, but his mind was ever a muddle, and he only looked at newspapers when he was tossing them aside rummaging through trashcans for more worthwhile material. Still, the exuberance bursting from that strange lanky frame was enough to arouse his interest. He stirred from his position, stretched out, and promptly convulsed in a loud sneeze as the cold finally seeped into his lungs.  
  
"Bless you!" called the boy, who seemed to find the action very funny. The reggae man ruefully rubbed his sore nose.  
  
The young man stopped in front of him and held out a little white cloth. "Use this," he said, smiling despite the cold air nipping his cheeks. "Merry Christmas."  
  
And then, just like that, the boy was off and running again. The reggae man had no time to find his voice and thank him - to those old bleary eyes he seemed like some sort of bright young angel, flying off on a wintry morning. He cleaned himself off with the pretty white handkerchief, and as he unfolded it, he discovered another slip of paper hidden in it... this one, a 5,000 yen bill.  
  
Getting to his feet, he turned toward the direction the angel had gone and waved. "Thank you!" he exclaimed in a cracked and hoarse... but decidedly happy... voice.  
  
~  
  
The taxi driver was at that moment thinking that his job was decidedly less pleasant than the cab driver's job in "It's a Wonderful Life." He didn't know anyone's names, and no one depended on him. He wasn't friends with the local policeman, and he had no one to sing duets with but the radio. And there was certainly no one around today. The taxi company needed drivers out and available every day and every time, but there was no one who needed a taxi this early in the morning on a holiday. And keeping the engine running wasted company gas and would get taken out of his paycheck. So he was sitting in his taxi, rubbing his hands together to warm them up, all alone on a snowy winter morning.  
  
If the rapping on his window hadn't been quite so persistent, he would have written it off as snow falling from a tree onto the roof of his car. But when it continued for a full ten seconds and never wavered in volume, he looked up and saw an eager, lively face pressed against the passenger-side window. He rolled the windows down.  
  
"You working?" Tsukasa asked the man.  
  
"Won't be until you get in," he replied.  
  
"Then I won't hesitate," said Tsukasa as he swung the door open and came crashing down in the front seat of the cab. Snow blew in with him. The cab driver hurriedly rolled up the window again, shivering. "Sorry," his passenger grinned. "Yamanote, 2-4-5 Daiichi. How much do you make in a day?"  
  
"Eh?" The taximan blinked and froze in mid-twist of the ignition key. "What was that, sir?"  
  
"How much do you make in a day?"  
  
"Well now, that depends on tips and all," was the response. "On a real good day, maybe twenty thousand or so. Why d'you ask?" he added as they pulled out of the space and started to trudge down the snowy road.  
  
"I'll give you forty thousand to hurry."  
  
The car nearly skidded off the street. "WHAT was that?"  
  
"Get me there quick as you can," grinned Tsukasa, "buy your wife some flowers and go home."  
  
"W--what's the occasion, sir?" He was dimly reminded, again, of "It's A Wonderful Life."  
  
"Just got my life back," his customer beamed. "And I don't see why the whole country doesn't celebrate."  
  
The taxi driver stared at him a moment, grinned himself, and stepped on the gas.  
  
~  
  
Tsukushi had been so, so tired last night. She fell asleep still dressed, her arms clutched weakly around the basket of cookies she'd stayed up half the night assembling, body sprawled out only half on her futon. Even before she was awake, the soreness attacked her, and she moaned in her sleep.  
  
Light filtered in through her eyelids, and she thought for a moment it must be morning. But she'd set her alarm clock to go off at eight, and it was still silent, so it couldn't be that late. Burying her face in the pillow, she tried to go back to sleep.  
  
She thought she felt something touch her hair, and she raised a halfhearted hand to bat it away. But it was soothing - a stroking - and she began to believe it was only the sun, only a part of some half-dream she was having. Warm, constant, soothing.  
  
Then there was breath near her ear, not Susumu's rhythm, but strangely familiar. Comforting. Was she dreaming about Doumyouji? She hoped so, and leaned backward into his embrace. Strong arms came around her. Feather-light kisses dotted her ear. This was a lovely dream. "Doumyouji," she let herself say in a lethargic drawl. Her eyes flickered open.  
  
The alarm clock read nine-thirty.  
  
Tsukushi's eyes opened wide, and she moved to get out of this weird dreamlike embrace, but something was holding her back. Someone. It hadn't been a dream - she was being held by arms, comfortable arms, familiar arms, and the hand that had been stroking her hair was really a hand, and this feeling of warmth and shadow over her was...  
  
"Good morning, Makino," whispered the low rumble of a voice she'd doubted she'd ever hear say her name again.  
  
"I'm dreaming," she said loudly, and closed her eyes again.  
  
A soft chuckle, and more kisses. Pressed along her jawline, her cheek. She moaned as they caught her lips. "Good dream," she mumbled, turning her body to meet his.  
  
Oh, God, this was too warm to be a dream.  
  
Her eyes flew open again, and she jerked back. "D... D... Do..."  
  
He put a finger to her lips. "Makino."  
  
"This is a joke," she whispered, growing pale. "Someone put you up to this." He shook his head silently, still smiling. The love radiating from his eyes was something he couldn't have faked, and knowing this, Tsukushi began to tremble. Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you..."  
  
"Remember you?" He finished for her. "Yeah, I remember. Sorry it took me so long."  
  
The tears spilled from her eyes. "R...really?" she asked in a shaky voice.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Before he could even finish the syllable, her arms were tight around him and she was clinging to him, crying. She whispered his name over and over into the warmth of this place in his arms, this place where she belonged. He laughed and succumbed, toppling them both to the futon, rolling beside her and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Makino," he whispered. "I'll never leave you alone again. I'm sorry."  
  
She shook her head firmly against him. "Don't apologize," she said in a tear-soaked voice. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This is a miracle."   
  
"Makino--" His brows furrowed and he winced at the sensation of having her in his arms again, full and real and giving. All her warmth, all the patience and pain and hope she'd been holding inside, diffused into him somehow with this embrace, and he felt like he'd taken a piece of her soul into him, bound them together in a way that even memory could not contain. He brought her face up to meet his again, and it was the most honey-sweet and aching of kisses. This time, instead of forgetting only her, he forgot the whole world except for her, and they clung to each other in a world gone white and distant. She was right. This was a miracle.  
  
He dipped to kiss her neck, and she sighed. "Oh, God..." Then the words took on a whole new tone. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, bolting upright. "Where's Susumu!?"  
  
Tsukasa took a pratfall onto the futon at her sudden change, and righted himself with a painful mutter. "I gave him a few thousand to go take an early morning walk. Would you mind not surprising me like that? I'm still recovering, you know!"  
  
But Tsukushi was fully in business mode. "My job...!"  
  
"Nope," he scowled. "Not allowed. Today is Christmas, it's a day for us to have a Christmas date. No working today."  
  
"But..." Her protests died on her lips as she focused on his obstinate frown. She gave a little smile and looked downward. "You... really... remember me?"  
  
"Right down to the most annoying little detail," he growled, and she laughed. "Get changed and let's go. I'll wait outside."  
  
"But the SPs are..." Her expression changed. "That's right. We don't have to... Doumyouji, your mother gave us a year."  
  
"I know," he said, and she knit her brows in confusion.  
  
"You know? How?!"  
  
He brought his forehead to meet hers and gazed at her with utmost seriousness. Finally, locking eyes with hers, he said in his lowest growl, "A ghost told me."  
  
She hit him with a pillow.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"That's what you get!" She scrambled to her feet and stood towering above him. "Out you go, if you want me to get dressed like you said. Go!"  
  
Tsukasa looked up at her. She was pride and fury and amusement, a living whirlwind of complex emotions he couldn't begin to untangle. Only the golden cord of joy and love that shined from her eyes could he understand, yet that was enough to sustain him. She was unforgettable. Now and forever. He would never fear losing her again.  
  
He pulled hard on both her arms, and with a little cry she came sliding back down onto the futon. He covered her lips and her body with his, whispering little maddening promises into her mouth, shuddering with joy when he felt her acquiesce and wrap her arms around him. The sun rose over them as the morning burst into its fullest bloom.   
  
Around them, the city awoke slowly, gently, to the most wondrous, white morning it had ever seen. Children shouted and lovers smiled, holding each other's hands and thinking of promises yet to be spoken. And crystals of snow and crystalline tears shimmered in the daylight as though beating with the pulse of a song. A Christmas carol.  
  
~joy to the world~ 


End file.
